Silver & Gold
by Undead Prowess
Summary: Yours truly, Sprocket's, history is here. Just as I promised ya guys. Spin-off of Darkest Hour, can be read without reading the trilogy.
1. Welded Together

_**Silver & Gold**_

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><p><em><strong>Welded Together<strong>_

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><p>Sprocket tossed off the dress and glared at it with as much spite as she could. Her flame-red hair was a mess and she was basically nude except for underwear and a training bra. She continued to glare at the dress, blaming it for her mother's antics. She did not like dresses, especially this one. She had thrown it on her messy bed. It was bright pink and white, and had more frills on it than Skylands had clouds. She huffed and made her way across her room (which had various toy tools strewn across it) and wrenched open her closet door (which was in desperate need of fixing, she noticed, by the squeaky hinges) and thumbed through her shirts and jeans.<p>

She was satisfied when she found a stained, old, brick-red T-shirt and torn jeans. She pulled them from the small closet and shut the glossy white door. She set the clothes down on the bed a lot gentler than she had the dress and began putting them on. They felt a lot more comfortable than the itchy and frilly dress. She smiled and looked through the corners of her eyes at the window. Her mother could do without her for a day or two. She had an uncle to see and things to fix.

She crept over to the window. She heard her mother bang on something with her fist lightly. "Sprocket! Come out here when you're done, okay?"

Sprocket quit moving altogether, with her left leg cocked out the window and her other leg still inside. "Okay, mother!" She called back. With that, she quickly escaped and shut the window behind her. She mischievously grinned at the closed window and the walls it contrasted against. Her home was a large one, a mansion of fine jewelry and decoration. Its outside was painted in a sleek, shimmering, pale golden. Their yard was entirely green, blindingly so in the morning sun. She snorted and took off, running through that thick, bright, springy grass. Straight to the neighbor's mansion, except she bolted behind it. She knew these streets like the back of her hand. This was the richer neighborhood. If she passed it and went down a couple of avenues, she'd get towards the more rundown places. Here, the grasses were so grotesquely fake green it made her feel sick. The polished, expensive, but slow cars irritated her to no end. They were never used for their potential.

If something was broken, it was not fixed. It was thrown away and replaced. A shirt covered everything just as nicely as a dress could, what was the point in wasting so much money on something that sparkles and poofs out ten feet? She laughed as she continued running down the back roads. If there was one thing in this neighborhood that wasn't taken care of, it would be the back roads. They were nothing but dirt, and made for the "riff-raff" that passed through the neighborhood that would be unsightly on the main road, as her mother had said many times before.

Sprocket grinned. Oh, they were riff-raff, alright, but her mother simply didn't see the excitement in it. These riff-raffs brought fun at night, when they brought out their speedy, expensive cars that they actually used for their correct purpose, and would race till the break of dawn. Bets were placed, sometimes there were fights. Fourteen-year-old Sprocket couldn't bet, but she had sure been in her fair amount of fights. Ha, if you think that's young, then you've obviously never been in the Golding Countries before. Grinning, she stopped as she neared the end of the stretch of back roads. Here they would break off and lead to the main roads. Nobody would dare to race in broad daylight. She loped down the side of the road, hands in her pockets.

There were good things to this place. There was a fatal crime rate of practically zero, with very few heinous acts every committed in its entire history. So she wasn't bothered, walking down the side of the road. A few cars zipped by. She wasn't fazed until one slowed to approach her. At least, until she recognized the black and orange, aerodynamic, sleek 10046 Ferral. She grinned and backed away to give the car room to get close and for its driver to step out.

Bailey was a tall, dark-haired golding. He had smudges of oil on his dull overalls and faded green shirt underneath. He grinned at her. "Need a lift? I don't think little girls should be walkin' all around on their own, missy," he ruffled her hair and chuckled. Gods above, it was always so annoying whenever he teased her, but she secretly loved it as well. Her parents never played or joked around with her. Her home life was bland compared to the life and reputation she had built away from her home.

Sprocket puffed her cheeks out at him in mock annoyance. "Do I? I'll only say yes because it's much faster," she laughed as she walked to the passenger door and expertly pulled it open. The door lifted up instead of swinging out sideways. She just giggled. She loved this car.

Bailey loped around to the driver's door and lifted the door expertly. He flopped inside the driver's seat and brought the door back down. Sprocket pulled her door down as well, admiring the leather interior of the car. It was all so beautiful.

Bailey noticed her admiring the car. "For an old one, it's sure pretty, ain't it?" He patted her shoulder and started the car. Its engined roared to life, and he made a blatant u-turn to turn in the other direction. She snorted at his antics. "So where are we goin' today, missy? To Grease's, I'm sure," he laughed. His laugh was infectious and she giggled, too.

"Yes," she answered, "he wanted me to come and help him with some new project and to help clean up. Y'think a guy like him would learn some scrap metal can't be salvaged. But nope, he's convinced every single bit of it has used and will be used one day, despite it all bein' stacked to the ceilin'. It's a wonder he gets any work done around there at all!"

Bailey laughed alongside her statement. "I know, I've been inside. That old man talks to the scrap metal like it'll tell him when it needs to be used!"

The rest of the car ride carried on like that, talking endearingly about Sprocket's less-than-favorable uncle. Her parents had already made it clear they despised him and had even told her to stay away from him. Sprocket couldn't understand why. He was so quirky and she loved him. He didn't try to force her into being different. His name, 'Grease', had come from him always having grease and oil stains on him as a child, her father had said. He had once been called Muffler, but had adopted the name Grease after his brother (her father) had begun to tease him about it.

Unlike her own, Grease's house was small and seemed insignificant. It was dirty and relatively uncared for on the outside. The grass sprang up lavishly, unattended and wild. The tiny front yard was a danger zone that couldn't be crossed due to the miniature jungle that was blooming there. She thanked Bailey for the ride, and hopped out of the expensive, yet old car. She headed up the driveway, the loose gravel making crunching noises as she arrived to the backyard gate. Grease's car was old, and was smudged with oil and grease from Grease touching it and maneuvering it. Again, he didn't bother to clean much and so the car stayed in its condition.

Sprocket rounded the corner into the backyard and happily marched to her uncle's workshop. He had only bothered to cut the grass in two paths, coming from his back door of the house and from the fence's gate. The rest of the backyard was filled with grass tall enough to tickle her nose. She giggled and bolted to the workshop door.

She heard sounds of clanging metal inside and grinned as she opened the door. Piles and piles and stacks upon stacks of old scrap metal, beams of wood, and other supplies were reaching the ceiling of the workshop. Tools were strewn about in the center of the workshop, which was semi-clear of debris. Sprocket picked her way to the clearing and tackle-hugged her uncle once she finally got to him. He dropped the piece of metal he looked like he was trying to examine and turned his head sideways to smile at her.

"I see ya made it. I know my brother won't be happy about ya sneakin' out."

"He never is," Sprocket snickered their usual greeting. "So, what is it we gotta do today?"

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><p>This was how every meeting with my uncle went. Usually smooth and easygoing with me always returning to my parents madder than hell. But I don't regret a single one of those days. This is my, Sprocket's, story. You up for the ride?<p>

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><p><strong>This one will be shorter to fit more of Sprocket's style. That and I feel bad for not updating anything in forever. XD Hope you guys enjoy this, and look out for Feu's next chapter in the upcoming week!<strong>

**Also, NaNoWriMo has begun! Anyone else participating this year?**


	2. Exposition

_**Exposition**_

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><p>Grease grinned back at his eager little niece. "Well, I gotta get my car up and running again. Engine blew yesterday," he seemed to garner a bitter smile at that. Harshly bitter. "Road raging fools," he mumbled under his breath. He swiped his long, stringy, brick-colored hair out of his face and waddled across various parts and pieces on the floor to a black set of metallic garments hanging on a wall. A wood plank hung haphazardly around his head as he retrieved it from the perilously small nail that was hammered into the wall.<p>

He turned around, ducking quickly to avoid smacking into the low-hanging wood, and grinned at her as he approached again. Sprocket raised her eyebrows in confusion as he hoisted the suit upward, showcasing it for her.

As aforementioned, it was a suit. It was pitch black, with a shiny, almost greasy coating. She realized that it had a helmet with a visor that was as dark as the black, but tinted blue. The rest of the suit looked metallic and sleek to her, without much distinction; yet, not in a bad way. She awed at it.

Grease looked awfully proud of himself. He held the suit and its entirety with one strong arm and used his other to press buttons on the rear. It gave a hissing sound, and seemed to split at the middle. Grease fastened the helmet over his head, and began attaching the split pieces, clipping them shut around himself. Sprocket backed away a little as her uncle was clasped within the iron suit, and jumped when he spoke, for it didn't sound like her uncle at all.

"Grease?" She asked tentatively.

"Yes, it's me," Grease chuckled in an altered, almost robotic voice. He raised his arm, turning it to expose his inner forearm and palm. The suit became lighter, nearly silver here. Careful etchings and patterns had been carved into the suit. Sprocket tiptoed forward, dodging obstacles along the way. She was fascinated by the characters sketched into the iron. The slopes and swirls, and the sharp turns and curvatures… she didn't understand what they meant, but they looked so intriguing.

"Your name is there," Grease said softly, even through his robotic voice.

Sprocket glanced up at him, and then back at the etchings. She scanned and scrutinized them much closer, and as she did, she realized the swooping loops, gracious arcs, and sharp turns were all a delightful pattern that spelled her name across the underside of his forearm.

"...Why'd you put my name there?" Sprocket asked with wide, questioning eyes. She loved her uncle dearly, but she didn't think he loved her that much so as to inscribe her name on such a high-tech battlesuit. It looked absolutely astonishing, and she didn't want to think about the time and effort that must have gone into it.

"Because who else comes to help me with all this mess?" Grease chuckled, ruffling her hair. She swore she could see him grin behind the dark, shrouding visor. He turned away from her and began trying to unclasp the battlesuit. Sprocket stepped forward, preparing to help him, when a small volt of golden electricity sprung forth and zapped her finger, and then spread a small electrical current throughout Grease's battlesuit.

It was enough to send her uncle to the floor, on his knees. He groaned a bit, and then began really trying to undo the suit. Sprocket, in a slight panic and clutching her stinging finger close, Smoke began to billow from the battlesuit. Sprocket turned around, and began heading towards where the fire extinguisher was placed. It wouldn't be the first time she'd had to hose down one of her crazy uncle's experiments, but it would be the first time one of those crazy experiments encased her uncle in a full-body suit.

She thought about her name inscribed on the underside of his forearm, and she reached for the fire extinguisher she knew was leaned against the wall. But the smoke made it hard to see, and she grabbed a few random items before grasping the fire extinguisher: an enormous red monkey wrench, a hammer with blunt edges, and goggles. Thinking she could possibly use the wrench to free her uncle, she grasped it and snatched the goggles up as well, hoping to use them to keep smoke out of her eyes. She spluttered as she groped and held the fire extinguisher, spraying at random, hoping to have cooled her uncle's suit down enough before it burst into flames.

She coughed and weakly sputtered her uncle's name as she swatted the smoke away, panicking when she heard no response. "Grease!" She shouted, much louder and in a rawer tone this time. She still received no reply, and frantically flailed her arms through the air, moving the smoke out of her face and senses. As it dissipated, she realized he simply wasn't there.

She didn't know how, but he wasn't.

She sank to her knees, staring at the place he had been moments earlier, on his knees, because his suit was malfunctioning. Then she noticed something on the floor. She scurried over quickly, and picked up a single, tiny gear, with a dry and strangely bent hair on it. She extracted the hair with expert fingers, and examined the gear closely.

Maybe it was just a random gear from the mountains of broken and trashed devices strewn about the workshop. Or maybe it was the piece that had caused Grease's suit to malfunction so horribly.

Maybe the hair was just one of Grease's that had been pulled free. Maybe it was one of her own hairs. Or maybe it had something to do with his simple vanishing.

She would find out.

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><p><strong>Whoo! I'm on time this week! Anyway, next week you can look out for Snow Quest's next chapter! I'm pretty pumped for this. New secrets, new mysteries~<strong>


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